Location: Naples, Italy
The smell of coffee roasting was the first thing that brought them back to their senses, woken them up from whatever place they had gone and returned them to their body in this seat in the cafe. For the first few moments, they only thought of this strong scent that wafted through the store; though they didn’t know what had produced the smell, or even what they were smelling, they knew that they would very much like to indulge in whatever its source was.
It was then that the realization dawned upon them that they did not know where they were, or even how they had gotten to wherever they were. They blinked, confusion settling over them in a dense fog. They searched their memories for a clue or hint or something, realizing then that they didn’t remember anything. Not their life, their family, or even… themselves. Panic started to wrap its fingers around their chest. Their head swivelled around the store, eyes darting from customer to customer, but not a single face ringed familiar in their mind. They were as unfamiliar to them as they were to themself.
They stood up suddenly. They didn’t know where they were, but they knew that they needed to get out of here. The scents and sounds in the store were beginning to become suffocating, and they wanted to step outside, take a moment to breathe and maybe they would be able to gather their thoughts. They moved to walk outside but then someone’s hand was on their shoulder, halting their movement.
“Signore.”
They paused, looking back at the woman, her features drawn into a tight, impatient expression. Sir. She must’ve been standing near his table a long time, but it was only now that he noticed her at all. Hey, to be fair, he was going through a bit of mental turmoil that took up his attention. She thrust a thin piece of paper at him, the motion a tad more aggressive than it needed to be, but he caught the paper with more than a little surprise etched on his face. He looked at it, eyes scanning over its contents. A bill, it seemed—the total didn’t amount to too much, but as he didn’t have anything to pay with, any amount over zero was too much. He blew out a frustrated breath, patting his pockets down and—by some luck of the gods—found a wallet in one of them.
He withdrew the black wallet, opening it to find a driver’s license tucked into the transparent pocket. Presumably, the man pictured was him—hey, at least he was attractive—and the info on the ID helped fill in some very basic details about himself that he was missing. Date of Birth. Age. Address. … Name.
“Caian Locklear,” he murmured to himself, trying to cement it in his mind.
The waitress cleared her throat, and so he methodically took out the appropriate number of bills, finally relieving her of her position at his table. He turned to leave, got as far as the door, before he walked back towards the counter.
“Um,” he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the same woman, who he got a feeling did not like him much. “What’s that… smell?”
This was apparently a question he should’ve known the answer to, at least, that’s what was clearly written across her face. When Caian’s face did not give way to a laugh, she obliged, a single, sharp word leaving her mouth. “Caffè.”
He nodded, like he understood, but the word was as foreign to him as everything else. Still, he said: “Can I have some of that?”
Two cups of coffee, three sandwiches and a chocolate glaze donut later, Caian’s wallet was significantly emptier, but his spirits were significantly higher. It was about forty minutes later when he finally walked out of the store, armed with his second cup of caffé and the glazed donut in his other hand. His first cup had been a regular caffé, which had been bitter, but after some packets of sugar and cream, the taste warmed on him. The second had been recommended by one of the staff, crema di caffè, and he liked this one. The first had been piping hot, but this one was cold, more viscous. They said it was like “coffee ice cream” and though he couldn’t assign a taste to the comparison, he figured they were probably right.
The sandwiches, he adored those more than the coffee(s), even, hence why he’d gotten three different kinds of them. Maybe it was a bit premature, but as of right now, sandwiches were his favourite food. Anyway, the donut was just a dessert, the final food item from that cafe that had caught his eye. His thoughts? Chocolate. That is all.
Stepping outside did not do much for his memory situation; the city was busy, people walking in both directions, and the scents and sounds were far more overwhelming than they were in the small cafe. To make matters worse, he didn’t even know where he was, or where to even go from here. At least he had the donut and the coffee cream drink as comfort. He sighed, looking skyward, as if there were some answer to his problems within the clouds.
Caian started walking, not sure where he was headed, but figuring maybe his legs would just remember the path even if his mind didn’t. Or couldn’t. Whatever.
He thought he was paying good attention to his surroundings as he progressed, but the small dark-haired girl sitting on the fountain escaped his watch; he was a little to close to her and the fountain, and his foot caught on hers, causing him to trip and the half-eaten donut to slip from his hands and fall, face down, on the ground.
Caian had not known what pain was until this moment.
@Meekepeek Miss Leira
(@sunflower.flow idk if you wanted to approach eventually or whatnot but yeah)
Celestial world 